


Love You Liar

by Hoodoo



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Aftercare, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biting, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Care, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings Realization, Forgiveness, Insecurity, Non-Consensual Bondage, POV Multiple, Paranoia, Rage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Regret, Rough Sex, Sex, The demon is unleashed, Understanding, Violence, appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: You've told him you loved him, but Beetlejuice has trust issues and was never given the tools to process complex emotions. You're going to have to show him that what you say is true.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/You
Comments: 29
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one _escalates_.

“I love you.”

“Oh, I love you!”

“I love you!”

You said it often: to friends, to family, to people you messaged on the internet. It came easily and natural, it conveyed friendship and sometimes was just the right sentiment. 

When it came to Beetlejuice, however, you never said it until you were sure. And when you did? Oh, the stunned disbelief on his face! His wide eyes; his mouth opening and closing for a moment like he wanted to say something, but had completely forgotten how. The blush that started on his cheeks bled into his hair. He grabbed you, hugged you, kissed you. His excitement was contagious and you laughed and held his face as you kissed him back.

And as quickly as that high came, however, he crashed. The very next morning, you found him curled into a ball, holding onto his knees, refusing to look at you when you asked what was wrong. That bright element of happiness had left him. You gently wrapped your arms around him and rocked. 

In spurts and stutters, Beetlejuice asked you _how_ you could possibly love someone like him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t understand what you saw in him, when you could have a breather. He was just a dead guy and, and, he loved you too but he wasn’t worth it, he wasn’t worth anything–-

“You love me too?” you whispered. 

He finally lifted his head out of his crossed arms to look at you. His eyes were haunted with pain and a deep resignation that you’d abandon him, like everyone else.

“Yes! How could I not!” he replied.

Just as he’d been stuck speechless, you were too at hearing him admit it. You laughed, which made him flinch a little, and you apologized and insisted it was a good laugh, a laugh because you were so happy.

It took a little time, but you unfolded him and climbed into his embrace and kissed him and told him how much he meant to you. He told you how he’d wanted to say it for so long, wanted to tell you before, but was terrified it was too much too fast.

Then it was a silly game, random “I love yous” peppered throughout conversations. Then it was true and serious, “I love yous” said deep in the night when you were half asleep and he curled around you. Then it was a whispered, “I love you!” with his face pressed into your neck while he was between your legs.

He was convinced. 

⁂

When he could, when he was allowed, Beetlejuice liked to follow his breather around when she was out of the house. He stayed invisible, at her request. Sometimes, though, he ran his hand over her shoulders or pinched her ass, just to tease, and on rare occasions he sidled close enough to whisper naughty suggestions of what he’d like to do to her when he got her alone: long massages; going down on her until she was sobbing-–remember, baby, I don’t need to breathe so I’m gonna take _hours_ eating your sweet pussy!; fucking her slowly till she couldn’t stand it.

Sometimes he was pushed away playfully when he was a pest. Sometimes she found a private spot, like a quiet stairwell, and kissed him. Once–-oh frabjous day!–-she located a single bathroom, locked the door behind herself, and they indulged in a quickie with her holding onto the sink while he took her from behind with their clothing only partially undone. 

No such luck today. She was busy and when he tugged a lock of her hair, while she was talking to someone else, she shook her head and batted him away, more annoyed than usual.

Beetlejuice sulked a moment but continued to follow her as she made her way through her day. He perked up when she smiled at him during a meeting, to which he replied silently with a dirty hand gesture and a raised eyebrow expression to suggest some activity later that evening. She bit her lower lip during the second smile, and he was back, baby! However, as her day wore on the hustle and demands caught up to her again. After an unpleasant phone call and having to track down a co-worker, he heard her catch her breath as she caught sight of some guy walking down the corridor towards her. 

That piqued his interest and he moved closer behind her. 

“Christ, not him today,” he heard her mutter to herself, obviously not happy about seeing whoever that guy, but as man came up her entire demeanor shifted. “Hey Greg! Nice to see you! How’s your day?”

Beetlejuice was surprised by her sudden attentiveness and interest in someone who she obviously wasn’t happy about seeing. She and Greg had a brief, meaningless conversation of niceties in the hallway, then he continued his way and she continued hers. 

Beetlejuice of course trailed after her, and once they’d made it out of earshot with Greg, she muttered, “Man I can’t stand that guy.”

Beetlejuice wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard that or not.

⁂

That night she was tired. She leaned comfortably into him while something mindless played on the television, but when he made advances to do something physical she begged off with a kiss.

“Not tonight, Beej. I’m sorry. I’m just really not in the mood.”

That was okay, he said. It was nice to just be together. 

“I love you,” he told her. 

“I love you too,” she replied, but her voice was soft and distracted.

He stroked her hair as she lay with her head in his lap and tried not to think about the quiet response she’d given him. 

⁂

The next morning, before she had to leave for the day, she tunneled under the blankets on the bed and blew him. It was hot and quick and he tried hard not to jerk his hips too much so he wouldn’t gag her. When she climbed back up his body to reemerge from under the covers, her hair was wilder than his as she grinned up at him. She planted a kiss in the middle of his chest and then kissed him properly on the lips before squirming away as he tried to hold her in bed to return the favor.

She must have checked her email as she drank her coffee, though, because her good mood had fled by the time she left. 

Beetlejuice called after her that he’d ravish her when she returned; she gave him a half-wave goodbye.

Her work was difficult, he told himself, especially when it started before she got there.

But there was a sour taste in his mouth and tiny seeds of worry in his gut. 

⁂

She turned down his offers of sex again that night too. 

They exchanged their “I love yous”, and it was exactly the same as the night before. 

Those tiny seeds, fed by his anxiety, started to sprout. 

⁂

Beetlejuice watched her leave again. It hurt. He wanted to go with her. He wanted to follow her around, like he did, and experience her day and be near her, and make her smile with saucy suggestions and bring her back here and screw her silly, like they’d done in the past.

But he was confused and worried, and was having a hard time processing things lately. 

He’d dismissed that she was interested in Greg. It had been difficult to do, because images of her and that breather together randomly popped into his head, but in the end he was able to fight back jealousy with rational thought. She hated that guy. She never made any secret about it; she’d even ranted about Greg at home, when he’d managed to piss her off enough that it carried over after work. 

There had never been any indication her dislike of the man was false. 

He’d seen the exchange she’d had with him, however. And her distaste was there, but the way she hid it, the way she was civil and pleasant to his face hinted at something more deeply disturbing.

She was a liar. 

She lied right to the face of someone she hated, acting normal and as if she did like him. She did it so easily! From Greg’s response, he bought her lie, because Beetlejuice heard no reciprocal venom directed back at her. Greg was an idiot.

But–-

But–-

What did that mean about him?

Was she lying to him? Was her relationship with him, was the whole, “I love you” thing just another lie? Was she stringing him along for a reason he couldn’t fathom? Was she laughing at him, was she using him? Was she just waiting until something better came along, and then was she going to leave him like everyone else?

By himself in the house, the same questions ricocheted inside his head, repeating on themselves till Beetlejuice felt half-crazed. What was true? What was real? Why would she do this to him? Why would she lie?

Invaded by toxic thoughts, fueled by doubt and misery, Beetlejuice grew angrier and angrier. At her. At himself, for being a fool. How could he have believed a breather would care for him? Love him? She was a liar and he was stupid.

He sat on the floor with his arms on his knees, his head buried forward. Anxiety and rage warred inside him, so he stewed while he waited for her to come back home.

He would find out the truth.

_tbc . . ._


	2. Chapter 2

You couldn’t wait to get back in your house and kick these ridiculous shoes off. The creator of high heels was a sadist; you wondered if Beetlejuice could locate that jerk down in the Netherworld and punch them in the neck for you.

You were also looking forward to not having to go out anywhere tomorrow; you could spend the entire day with your lover. It’d been stressful lately, and you just wanted to relax.

The house was quiet when you entered. Usually Beetlejuice was waiting to pounce, and when he didn’t make an appearance after you’d ditched your shoes and jacket, you called for him as you walked through your small place. It was unusual he wasn’t here. Come to think of it, he’d been acting a little off, lately. There had been less chaotic exuberance. 

He never answered, but you found him in the bedroom, against the wall, in the position you’d come to recognize as one he curled into when he was upset.

Going to his side, you went to your knees and took his shoulder, asking what was wrong.

Beetlejuice lifted his head, and the intensity of the raw anger in his eyes startled you. 

“You’ve been lying to me,” he said, his voice the same the low intensity of a rattlesnake’s warning.

You automatically jerked your hand away from him. You saw him track the movement with a predator’s eye, like a cat watches a mouse, like he was deciding whether he should attack. His gaze flicked back up to yours. 

After that initial instinctual releasing him, however, you were more confused than scared. 

“What are you talking about, Beej? Lying to you? Lying to you about what?”

“About _this,_ about what we have! About all this!” he replied loudly, in a tone that said he couldn’t believe you were so dumb.

You shook your head and held out your hands in appeasement, but didn’t touch him again. 

“Beej, sweetie, I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Beetlejuice glared at you, still projecting that he thought you were stupid. 

You tried again. “Beej-–”

“All of this!” he interrupted, throwing his hand out to indicate you didn’t know what. The room? 

When you glanced around, trying to determine exactly what he meant, an opened-mouth noise of angry frustration erupted from him that startled you again. You’d never heard anything like it from him; it was a pissed off, unthinking, inarticulate tantrum. It was the sound of anger so deep there were no words.

And it made you angry too. You had no clue what he was talking about, and him refusing to explain was just ridiculous.

“Beetlejuice!” you said, knowing the use of his full name would catch his attention and make him more angry, but you were stuck here. You took his arm again. “Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about!”

As you predicted, at the three syllables of his name he stopped the infernal racket and snarled at you instead. Brows furrowed, lips pulled off his teeth, he looked terrifying, but this time you didn’t back away from him.

_“You lied to me,”_ he repeated, and the word “lied” echoed around the room like it was whispered from the walls. 

You sighed at his parlor trick and closed your eyes in anger too. 

Luckily, Beetlejuice decided to expound on his accusation this time. “You fucking lied to me! You told me you loved me! You told me how much you cared about me! And it’s all been fake, it’s all been this big fabrication, this _myth_ you’ve been feeding me–-”

You had no idea where any of this was coming from. Where did he come up with that? Why was he suddenly so paranoid? You hadn’t done anything! His accusation made you mad too; how could he think that when you spent so much time with him, when you told him to his face you loved him?! You tried to interrupt his tirade.

“What the fuck? What are you fucking talking about, Beej? I do love you, how can you say I don’t?! When have I ever–-”

“–-and what else have you been lying about? You think I’m desperate, you think I’m pathetic, you think that you’re better–-”

“–-I can’t believe I’m hearing this! Where do you get off, telling me I’m lying to you, I do love you, haven’t I said it so many times–-”

Your voice was loud, his was loud, the room rocked with the storms of rage crashing against each other as you both shouted over the other.

“–-and you don’t even fucking _know_ me!”

“I don’t _know_ you?! What the fuck does that even fucking mean, Beej?!”

He stopped and you waited, panting a little for breath.

There was still fire in his eyes, and a deep red in his hair.

“You don’t know me,” he repeated. “You think I’m this soft, pussy, cuck–-I’ve done all this for _you,_ I’ve treated _you_ how you want to be treated. I’ve coddled you and done everything to suit your expectations, and now you think I’m this sorry little ghost begging for scraps–-”

“I don’t think that, Beej!” you insisted loudly.

He ignored your interruption. “–-and you have no idea of the real me, the me that would fucking tear your world apart! Then you’d understand how stupid you were to slip up and lie and tell me you loved me–-”

Suddenly, you were tired. It’d been a hard week, and this brutal anger and accusations were coming out of nowhere. Fine. Beetlejuice didn’t think you loved him? He didn’t think you knew him; he’d been repressing his true nature for you? Fine.

“Really, Beej?” you asked, in a much softer voice, although there was still a bite of anger in it. “Really? Then why don’t you just fucking show me. Show me. Treat me the way you “want” to treat me. 

“Then let me decide, okay?”

At the abrupt decrease in tone, Beetlejuice bit off the last part of his tirade. You could tell he was still enraged because there were still streaks of blood red throughout his hair. What you didn’t expect, however, was the feral expression of glee that crossed his face. He licked his teeth and let his tongue loll as he cocked his head. Once again you felt in the presence of a predator, and you couldn’t help but hold your breath, even if you invited it. 

Beetlejuice gave a short, sharp laugh and grabbed you.

That was the last thing you saw for a moment, because the room became as black as a tomb.

⁂

Show her? _Fucking show her?_ He’d show her all right; she was going to be his toy, he was going to do everything he ever wanted, everything he ever deserved, and it was going to be delicious.

⁂

Some light returned. Not much, but it wasn’t the inky black that had momentarily made you think that you’d been unconscious. In the seconds that that passed from light to dark to dim light again, you found yourself naked, trussed with your arms behind your back, on your knees in front of Beetlejuice. He was also naked, leering down at you.

“Open!” he ordered, licking his teeth.

Disoriented, you took a second to process the word. 

Beetlejuice grabbed your chin. His nails cut into the skin along your jaw; were his nails ever that sharp? You gasped at the minor pain.

“Wider!” he demanded, tightening his grip. 

You opened your mouth more widely in an effort to relax his hand, and he shoved his cock into your mouth. 

It had been sort of expected, once you were able to have a moment to think, but he snapped his hips forward roughly and the head of his cock jammed into the back of your throat, immediately making you gag. There was a new taste to him too, one that you hadn’t ever quite noticed before. When it hit you, you jerked back a little in disgust: it was true rot, like you actively had your mouth on a corpse. He didn’t release you, however; he kept his cock pressed directly where it was, while you struggled for a second not to retch.

“Choking on my cock, baby? I can feel your throat spasm around me–-” Beetlejuice cooed down at you, in a parody of praise. “–-it feels so, so fucking good-–”

With your eyes watering and arching your back to attempt to get a little room to breathe, a split moment before you were going to lose the battle with vomiting Beetlejuice pulled himself out of your mouth. You couldn’t help but gasp for breath and work to stop gagging. There was a chuckle from above you, and he repeated, 

“Open!”

You glanced up at him. He snarled and reached for your chin again, but you opened your mouth before he could wrench it open. The twist of his lips became a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and he shoved his cock back into your mouth. 

He didn’t force you to take his full length this time, but pumped his hips at a pace that you simply couldn’t keep up with. Unable to swallow, drool just spilled out of your mouth, soaking him and your chin. With your hands behind your back, you rocked in time with his thrusts, so you spread your legs a little for stability. You tried to stay relaxed, when he grabbed the side of your head, threading his fingers into your hair, and yanked your head back.

“Look at me!” 

The position he held your head in was further back than was comfortable. It loosened your jaw. You had no choice but to look up his torso, towering over you. Beetlejuice licked his lips, and his smile was still more dangerous than not. He pulled his cock from your mouth, and you gulped air.

He held his cock and ran it over your cheeks.

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he tsk’ed, in disappointment that was palatable. “I thought you liked sucking my dick.”

You swallowed some of the thick saliva in your mouth and started to answer him, but before the first word was out of your mouth he’d shoved his way back in. 

With your head tipped back and his fingers still painfully entwined in your hair, he forcefully held you in place and upright as he face fucked you. Once again he bucked his hips deep enough that he hit the back of your throat, in, out, in, out, then holding you pressed directly against his pelvis for the deepest time yet. His pubic hair tickled your nose, but the fact that his cock was so far into you was more an immediate concern. 

After an excruciating moment, he pulled you off him.

Once again you gasped and gulped for air. He released your hair and your head dropped. 

“Fucking _breather,”_ he chided. “Can’t even suck me off right on your knees. I have to do fucking everything, don’t I?”

Before you’d had enough time to catch your breath, you were suddenly on your back, on your bed, head hanging off the side. Your arms were no longer restrained behind your back. Your upper thighs were cuffed, and now your wrists were shackled to those, making you unable to lift your arms. 

As you watched upside down, Beetlejuice walked over to the side of the bed, straddled your head, and ordered for the third time, 

“Open!”

You swallowed, and obeyed. 

Immediately he sank his cock into your mouth. This position gave you a little less panic that you were going to vomit. For whatever reason, having your tongue on the top of his cock eased it to your throat. Still, it also gave him more leverage to truly fuck your mouth like it was your pussy, and so he did, driving his hips into you with no regard for your need to breathe or swallow. 

You sipped air when you could, during his outward strokes. With no other place to go, your thickened saliva dripped over your cheeks and into your nose; suddenly it felt like you’d accidently taken a breath underwater. It burned, making your nose run. The sensation made your eyes water and you struggled, pulling on the restraints that had you helpless. Beetlejuice laughed and didn’t stop. 

His balls, now also wet, slapped against your forehead. The amount of air you were able to get wasn’t enough. You were able to wonder if Beetlejuice was even going to allow you time to swallow as he came, or if he was going to keep this blistering pace up.

Above you, without warning, Beetlejuice yanked his cock from your mouth and stepped away.

He left you gasping, your face covered with spit, mucus and tears. You rocked to your side to try and stop your nasal passages from burning from all the unwanted liquid they’d been subjected to. Your throat was raw. Luckily your mouth had grown used to the taste of him. 

“That was a little better,” he told you in a mild, slightly disapproving tone, as if you hadn’t lived up to his expectations. “I bet your pussy’s feeling lonely, though, with all the time my cock’s been down your throat. I bet it’s jealous, and that’s just not fair, is it?” 

You were picked up by invisible hands and flipped more properly on the bed. Your arms were free, though the leather cuffs were still around them.

Beetlejuice was beside you, looking over your naked body.

“You are a pretty breather,” he muttered. “So warm, soft skin … how would anyone know you’re mine?”

If you were expecting something a little more tender now, you were wrong. He dragged his fingernails down your front with enough force to leave red trails behind. As you gasped, he moved so quickly it startled you to straddle your legs, pinning them in place. Grabbing your wrists, he pressed them to the mattress as he leered down at you. His cock bounced with his movements.

“Lots of other guys-–living or dead–-would be happy to take you from me. Gotta show them you belong to me-–”

Twisting his body in a nightmarish way that shouldn’t be physically possible, Beetlejuice dropped his head to the side of one of your tit and bit you. He followed it with another bite on the side, on your rib cage. He used more force there, biting deeper.

You cried out in pain and thrashed under him. 

⁂

There was the sweet sound he wanted to hear! _He’d_ done that, giving her marks that would remind her of her place! This was perfect, this was how it should be-–he was a demon, she was prey. His teeth broke her skin and the warm fresh taste of blood flooded his mouth. 

Beetlejuice groaned at the mouthful of life.

⁂

His mouth released you and you would have curled up to protect that side if you’d been able. As it was, Beetlejuice laughed at your struggles and leaned down again, this time to kiss you. The taste of copper, from your own blood, filled your mouth as he licked your teeth, then he sat back again.

Moving off you, he told you to grab behind your knees.

Trying to ignore the pain he’d created from the bites, you did as you were told. Beetlejuice settled between your open thighs, pushing your legs upward to the angle he thought was best, and looked down at you. Your arms shook, but you kept yourself in the position he’d pushed you into. 

⁂

Beetlejuice leered at her spread so nicely before him. Her pussy was slightly open, her folds glistening a little. He knew the taste of it intimately, and briefly considered licking her for some of that sweet flavor, but his cock throbbed.

But not now. Her cunt was too inviting to waste time with his mouth. He wanted to fuck her more than he wanted to shove his tongue into her. 

Maybe later. Maybe after he’d done all he wanted he’d lick her pussy and suck his come back out of her, and then he’d fuck her again.

He noticed her arms shook a little as she held herself exposed in front of him.

It hadn’t taken much, had it, to make her do what he wanted, as quickly as he wanted.

⁂

Satisfied with whatever he was looking for, Beetlejuice dropped between your legs. You tried not to hold your breath, and since he hadn’t touched you between your legs, you hoped all the saliva you’d coated him with was going to be enough.

His cock pressed along your slit, pressing a little too hard on your clit for a moment, before slipping downward. The head nudged your entrance, and without another second’s hesitation, he popped his hips forward and filled you.

You and he had fucked so many times before. This was different, though; harder, meaner, with no regard to whether or not you were enjoying it. His cock split you and his pace was fast; it was like he just wanted to fuck you without any other feeling at all. Just a cock inside a pussy, everything reduced to its most primal state.

The bony points of his hips hurt with each of his hard forward thrusts. He grunted and didn’t look at you. You gasped, but that was more air being forced from your lungs than anything else. You watched his face. There was pleasure there, from the physicality of it, but not the amount you’d seen at other times.

⁂

It felt good. It was good. Her pussy around his cock, hot and tight. Something was off though; as hard as he thrust, it wasn’t exactly right.

There was no sound from her. Nothing like before, at least. She was moaning and gasping a little, but it wasn’t the same. There weren’t any giggles, there wasn’t any purr of pleasure from her, there wasn’t any grabbing him and rocking her pelvis into him. 

Beetlejuice furrowed his brow and tried to push the whispers in his head of why it was different this time away. He tried to concentrate on the pleasure, and not think about anything else. 

⁂

He opened his eyes, saw you looking at him, and his expression turned ugly.

“Don’t look at me!” he barked, in direct opposition to what he’d said when you were on your knees in front of him with his cock in your mouth. 

His hand came up and slapped you across the face. You cried out and lost your grip on your knee as your hand went to your cheek. It burned, and once again your eyes flooded with tears. 

Without warning, just as you’d been transported three times already, you suddenly found yourself on your stomach, your slapped cheek pressed into the mattress. Your knees supported you, your ass in the air. The thigh cuffs were still cutting into your legs, and your arms were straight at your sides, now reattached to your legs. 

You had the ability to close your legs, but when you shifted, Beetlejuice gave you a wordless growl that you took for the warning that it was not to move from the position he wanted you in. 

There was nothing to do but wait. 

The mattress shifted as he settled behind you. He didn’t drag the head of his cock along your slit this time; now he just shoved himself into you full force, splitting you open once again on his cock. You couldn’t help but gasp. 

With his hand gripping your hips too tightly, he fucked you even more brutally. He slammed forward as he pulled you back. You cried out with each thrust, and the same hand that made contact with your face slapped your ass. Each strike was harder until your rapidly disconnecting brain realized he was smacking you when you made a sound, so with a mighty effort you bit your lips and held in your cries. 

Burying your face in the mattress helped too, even if the fabric of the sheets rubbed roughly on your skin and it was hard to breathe. 

⁂

It was getting harder to resist the pleasure. Her hips in the air, her offered pussy wet and tight each and every time he drove into her. Her ass was bright red from the spanking he’d given her.

Beetlejuice couldn’t continue the furious pace he’d set. 

He’d used her roughly, how he’d always used breathers during the rare occasions one was stupid enough to call him. He used them like they were disposable. He took what he wanted, took it how he wanted, and left them when he was spent and they had nothing more to offer him. That was the best way to deal with them; they were toys.

He howled as he came, dumping his load deep inside her, pushing so hard against her she shifted forward a little. He stayed in that position for several moments, lost in a haze of bliss that left him shaking a little. When he finally came back aware, he realized his fingernails had sunk into the delicate skin of her hips and waist. He had to tug a little to loosen them as he pulled back from her. 

A string of semen bridged from the tip of his cock to her pussy for a second. It broke as she eased herself downward, to her side.

It didn’t seem to matter to her that she was laying awkwardly on her arm, still shackled to her thigh. She was panting and her eyelids fluttered closed. Uneven, dark tracks of mascara had smeared around her eyes and down her cheeks. She looked exhausted. She had, of course, chosen to lay on the side that he hadn’t bitten.

Beetlejuice’s eyes locked onto the bruising set of teeth marks he’d put on her skin. He’d punctured her. He knew that, had known it at the time, but suddenly the realization of it struck him out of the blue and he froze.

He looked more closely at her. Her hair was mussed, matted with drying saliva. She breathed lightly through her mouth; her lips were slightly swollen from the abuse they’d received. Her mascara was ruined, and under it one cheek was not only red from the smack he’d given her, he’d left two thin scratches there too, from his fingernails. Some blood had dried along her jawline, from the very first time he’d grabbed her chin. Speaking of which: there were tiny dotted lines of blood on her chest down to her belly, where he’d dragged his nails hard over her skin. It was easy to follow the path his hand had taken.

He didn’t move, but he could also see crescents in her hips from his nails, and the swell of her ass, from what he could see, was firey red from spanking. 

Suddenly, he felt cold.

What had he done? What had he done to her, his beautiful breather? The woman he told he loved, that he only wanted to be with, that said she loved him too?! How could he have cruelly marked her, made her gag and gasp for air, all in the name of showing her his true self, to prove that she didn’t know him? To prove she didn’t really love him.

But if she didn’t … why did she let him do all those things to her? She could have banished him by saying his name three times at any point!

_What was wrong with him?!_

Beetlejuice curled into himself, as small as he could be. He didn’t go sit by the wall where she’d found him earlier. He didn’t even have the energy to slip off the edge of the mattress and sit where he landed, where he belonged. On the floor. Like an animal. Like the animal he was. Everything he’d said about himself was true.

He was pathetic.

⁂

Although you expected some type of retribution for rolling to your side, nothing happened. No orders or physical punishment. So you concentrated on getting your breath back. Your throat was raw. Your hips were sore. Your pussy felt hot and well used, and although the come that had dripped out of you after Beetlejuice finished had been warm, it was cooling between your thighs. Your side ached, from where he’d bitten you. Your face felt stiff from dried spit and tears.

Once you were breathing mostly normally again, you dared to try and get the arm you were laying on out from under you. 

To your surprise, you were no longer trussed. With every other nerve ending making itself loudly known, you hadn’t even realized the cuffs on your thighs and wrists were gone. 

Carefully, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, and you opened your eyes. 

Beetlejuice wasn’t waiting to do anything more to you. No orders. No twisting you to suit his purposes, as he saw fit. No looking at you like you were a piece of meat. He wasn’t looking at you at all, actually. His chin was almost to his chest. There was no color in his hair; it was dull. Lifeless.

He was, however, trembling. 

You swallowed and winced at the rawness in your throat, then gingerly scooted towards the edge of the bed. 

⁂

Beetlejuice heard his beautiful breather’s difficulty swallowing and bit his lip to keep a sob inside. She was moving slowly because of all the wounds he’d given her. She was going to get off this bed, hobble to the bathroom, and banish him from her life forever. 

He deserved it. 

Which was why, when she didn’t get off the bed but eased closer to him, leaning into his side, he flinched and couldn’t help but yelp in surprise a little. Her arms slipped over his shoulders and around his chest, and she lay her head on his shoulder. 

She whispered with a scratchy throat, “Thank you, Beej.”

His mind went blank. 

“I love you,” she continued, and his mind didn’t just go blank; he was struck dumb.

His tremble increased until it shook them both. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, he didn’t know what exactly, but he had to say something–-

That sob escaped him instead. He cried, and she was crying again too, which made him feel worse because he’d made her cry so much tonight already. She soothed him and kissed him, and it felt like the sun exploded in his chest. He kissed her and murmured that he loved her, she didn’t deserve him but he loved her, and he knew, he knew, he knew she loved him and he was an idiot and he was so sorry and he hurt her, oh fuck, he was so sorry he’d hurt her–-

She accepted his apologies and downplayed her injuries. She let him fuss over her and help clean her up. She let him use a cloth to wash her face. He watched attentively and refused to be more than a step from her as she dressed the bite wounds he’d inflicted on her. He took her to bed then, for sleep, because he’d exhausted her. She rested against him, and Beetlejuice whispered that he believed her, he was so sorry he thought she’d lied to him, over and over until she was asleep. He watched her sleep and still didn’t know how he deserved her. 

His breather. His beautiful breather. 

_fin._


End file.
